Reunited (Tueday Temptations)

by HELEN HARDT

  “I have studying.”

  “We’ve been studying all night.”

  Kathryn bit her swollen bottom lip. They hadn’t been studying all night, which was most likely painfully obvious to Deb and Bruce.

  “Should I walk you home?” Bruce asked.

  “I’ve got my car. I’ll take her home,” Brett said.

  “Brett, I live right down the street.”

  “So? Why walk when you can ride with me? Come on.”

  “Uh, okay. Thanks Deb and Bruce. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Have a fun evening, Kathryn,” Deb said and winked at her.

  Kathryn wanted to expire on the spot. Yes, Deb and Bruce were cool. They probably wouldn’t care that she’d been making out with the Italian Stallion in their home. Hell, she’d found a stash of pot in the kitchen cupboards more than once and Deb routinely left her vibrator out in the bathroom.

  Yet embarrassment overtook her. She was not Brett Falcone’s girlfriend. Would never be. She shouldn’t have been kissing him. Still, her body moving without benefit of her mind, she let him guide her out the door, down the driveway, to his Chevy parked on the street. Kathryn let him open the door. She slid in, sat on the fabric seat cushion, and inhaled. Pine. A tree-shaped air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror. Nice that he cared how his car smelled. Weird that she cared he cared.

  He got in beside her and started the engine.

  “You won’t get in trouble for me being there, will you?”

  She snapped her mind out of its fog. “No. They don’t care.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want to cost you your babysitting job.” He laughed. “Then again, if you lost it, you could spend more time with me.”

  “With you?”

  “Tutoring me, I mean.”

  “Yeah. I know that’s what you meant.” But for a moment, a sheer second, she’d hoped he meant he wanted to spend time with her as a person, not as a tutor.

  She shook her head to clear it once again. What a fool she was.

  “This is where I live,” she said.

  “I know where you live.”

  “You do?”

  “An address isn’t that hard to find, Kath.”

  “Why do you call me Kath? No one does.”

  “So you said.” He cocked his head. “It fits you. How come everyone calls you Kathryn?”

  “My mom calls me Kathy.”

  “But no one else?”

  “No. I prefer Kathryn.”

  “You want me to call you Kathryn?”

  No! For some reason she couldn’t quite figure out, she wanted him to call her Kath and nothing else.

  She shook her head again. Damn spider webs were invading her brain.

  He parked the car in the street by her house. Without looking at him, Kathryn opened the door and left the car. She turned back, polite to a tee. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “No problem. I’ll walk you up.”

  “No. Please don’t. This isn’t a date.”

  “I didn’t say it was, but I want to walk you up.”

  Something in his voice made her relent. He walked her to the front porch and stood with her under the door.

  “Thanks for helping me out tonight,” he said.

  Could he tell her body had turned to jelly? Her legs quivered. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you after school Monday in the usual classroom.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “I have my own homework to do tomorrow.”

  “You might need a break. We could get ice cream or something.”

  Okay, this was so not happening. Brett Falcone was not asking her out on a date. Especially not Brett Falcone who was going out with with Michelle Bates.

  Darned if she didn’t want to have ice cream with him.

  “Okay. Pick me up at three. I’ll have my work done by then.”

  “You got it.” His smile lit up his face. He bent near her and brushed his lips lightly across hers.

  She jolted and a fire ignited between her legs. Just a little peck and, oh God, she wanted more.

  “Good night, Kath.”

  “Good night.”

  She floated inside.

  Chapter Seven

  The phone clattered on the ceramic tile kitchen floor.

  “Kath?” Brett’s voice haunted her from the other room. “You all right in there?”

  Brett! What timing this Michael had. But she had to speak to him. Had to find out if he were truly the little boy she had given away all those years ago.

  She willed her throat to relax, her voice to steady. “I’m fine. I have to take this call. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Her shaky hand retrieved the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” she said into the mouthpiece. “You took me by surprise.”

  She walked from the kitchen past Brett, waving at him and mouthing “a patient,” stumbled into her bedroom, and shut the door behind her.

  “All right, Mr. Patton.”

  “Call me Michael.”

  “Of course. Call me Kathryn.”

  “I got your name from the agency. The records said that once I was eighteen, if I wanted to contact you, I could. I did a little research and found your married name. It was just a stroke of luck that you’re still living in the same city.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “January fourth.”

  Right date. Holy shit. “All right.” Her stomach burned. Her son. Her beautiful, precious son.

  Brett’s son.

  Lord, she had to tell him.

  If she wanted to start a relationship with him, she had to tell him anyway. A relationship built on a lie was no relationship at all. She’d hoped for a little more time. A little more to get used to the idea, to get him used to the idea…

  “I know this is coming out of nowhere for you,” Michael said, “but I really do want to meet you. And I have a question to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “Well, the adoption papers don’t specify who my father was.”

  “No.” She hadn’t written it down. Hadn’t wanted Brett to ever know. Had wanted him to play baseball, to have the life he deserved.

  “You…do know who he was, right?”

  “Yes. He was…is…a fine man.”

  “Oh, good. I just didn’t want to be the product of a rape or anything.”

  “Oh no. Nothing like that. I loved your father. I was just young, and he was…engaged to someone else.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “I wish I could have kept you. I do, Michael. But I was eighteen, and I had a scholarship.”

  “It’s okay. My mom and dad are great, and I have two sisters.”

  “You have another sister. Maya, my daughter, is four.”

  “Oh?”

  “And…three other sisters. Your father, he has three daughters.”

  “So you still keep in contact with him?”

  “I, uh, recently renewed contact, yes.”

  “I don’t want to push you, but can we meet? I’ve just always wondered what you look like. Where my nose comes from, things like that.”

  “I, uh, suppose.” Her nerves skittered.

  “And my father? Could I meet him?”

  “Oh Lord.” She sighed. “Michael—”

  “He doesn’t know about me, does he?”

  “No. I’m so sorry. He just came back into my life.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell him?”

  “Yes. I just need to find the right time.”

  “I understand. Until you find the right time, maybe you and I can meet.”

  She smiled into the phone. “I’d like that. I truly would. You probably won’t believe this, but I’ve missed you all these years. A day has not gone by that I haven’t thought of you. I always hoped I’d made the right decision.”

  “You did. I have a great life.”

  “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

  She grabbed a pad of paper from her bureau. “I wish I c
ould talk longer, but I need to go. I have company. Could you give me your number? I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.”

  She hastily scribbled down the name and number on the pad. “I’m so glad to hear from you, Michael. You have no idea.”

  “Good. I’m glad I didn’t disrupt your life.”

  “Oh no. You couldn’t. I’m so happy you’ve had a good life and I do want to know you. I’ll call you. Or you can call me anytime, okay?”

  “Thank you…Kathryn. I appreciate it.”

  “Bye now.”

  “Bye.”

  Kathryn drew a deep breath. Brett.

  Brett was in the other room and had no idea he had a son.

  She’d never told him. Suddenly, she felt she’d made the wrong decision. Would he understand her reasoning? Or would he be angry?

  Oh God, he’d be angry…

  She wanted to be with him. Wanted to make love with him again. Wanted all the passion and excitement she’d given up twenty years ago. The passion and excitement she’d never felt with another man in all this time.

  They still had a dinner date. Maybe she could tell him, in a public place, where he wouldn’t have a fit…

  What if he hated her? She couldn’t bear the thought. What if he walked away? Forever? When she’d just found him again?

  She clutched the phone in her hand as her eyes misted. She walked numbly out of the bedroom.

  “You okay?” Brett came toward her. “You look a little off.”

  She sniffed. “A patient. He’s okay though. It’s just hard sometimes.”

  “I bet it is. You’re such a caring person. You must hurt when they hurt.”

  If he only knew. “Yes. It’s difficult. A doctor is supposed to keep a professional distance.”

  “How can you? They’re people. People you get to know.”

  “Yes they are.” She smiled. “You get it.”

  “Of course, I get it. I get you, Kath. I always have.”

  God yes, he always did get her.

  “Ready for dinner?”

  She nodded and grabbed her jacket. They drove holding hands, not talking, to a small Italian place that someone in the Falcone family owned. She joked with Brett about being related to half of Columbus. Seemed like all the central Ohio Italians were bound by blood in one way or another. But the Falcones were never a mafia family, Brett maintained, despite the rumors.

  Kathryn remembered those rumors. Those rumors that had nearly cost Brett his life. And hers.

  Twenty years earlier

  She hadn’t laughed so much in ages. Turned out they both loved chocolate—the richer, thicker, and darker the better.

  Kathryn followed Brett outside the door of the ice cream shop.

  He turned and drew near and she gasped as he brushed his lips and tongue over the corner of her lips.

  “A little chocolate,” he said, smiling.

  Anyone could have seen them. The ice cream shop was a popular hangout. No one from school had been there today, true, but still. She couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing.

  What would Michelle think?

  Well, if Brett didn’t care what Michelle thought, why should she? She wouldn’t go out of her way to kiss him, but if he kissed her? Why fight it?

  She wanted to kiss him. Had never imagined such an intimate feeling as his lips on hers. Couldn’t wait to start kissing him more. To kiss other men more. She’d be the kissing bandit!

  “Let’s walk behind the mall, in the alley,” Brett said.

  “Why?”

  “So I can hold your hand, kiss you.”

  “Why do you want to hold my hand and kiss me?” She had to know.

  “Because I want to. It feels nice. Doesn’t it feel nice to you?”

  “But Michelle—”

  “Michelle’s not here.”

  “You’re not breaking up with her, are you?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it. We’re not married. I’m not being unfaithful.”

  “I think you are. I think you and she have an understanding.”

  “Maybe she has an understanding. I don’t.”

  “She thinks she’s marrying you, remember?”

  “I might. I might not. Right now, I don’t want to think about Michelle. I want to walk with you in the alley. I want to hold your hand. I want to put my arms around you and kiss you.”

  “Wow.” Her word came out in a breathy rasp. The Italian Stallion a romantic?

  He took her hand and tugged her along. “Come on.”

  They walked behind the mini mall into the back alley that was deserted, and a little scary. But no fear seized her. Brett was big and strong and would protect her.

  He held her hand, and then, when she least expected it, pushed her against the back of the store building and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Her lips tingled, her heart raced. The kiss consumed her, became her. Nothing existed in the world except her and Brett and the mating of their mouths.

  Until the stark chill of a blade slid against the warm flesh of her neck.

  “Nice piece of ass, Falcone. Care to share?”

  The voice slithered over Kathryn like snake venom. Two muscled thugs pulled Brett from her while the third pressed the cool steel into her flesh.

  “What the hell do you guys want?” Brett demanded.

  “The same as always, Falcone. You know what we’re after.”

  “And I’ve told you before. You’ve got the wrong Falcone. I’m Julian Falcone’s son. You’re looking for Brad Falcone, Angelo Falcone’s son. No relation.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No lie.”

  He glanced at Kathryn. She swallowed audibly.

  “At least let her go.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “She’s a Zurakowsky. No relation to the Family, honest.”

  Kathryn closed her eyes and prayed. What a time for him to bring up her Polish name. But if it worked, so help her, she’d give thanks the rest of her days for being the brunt of Pollock jokes.

  “We have a message for your old man,” the man holding the knife to Kathryn said.

  “His old man is home in bed,” she said, shaking. “He’s a construction worker, for God’s sake. A construction worker on disability.”

  One of them punched Brett in the stomach. He doubled over with an oof.

  Kathryn cringed but held still, ever aware of the blade still scraping against her neck.

  “Let her go, man,” Brett huffed. “Please.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” Kathryn said through clenched teeth.

  “It’s not worth it, Kath.” His voice was raspy, breathless.

  “I’m not leaving you!” The exclamation stretched her vocal cords and the blade pressed farther into her skin.

  “You harm a hair on her head and I’ll see all of you dead,” Brett seethed.

  Kathryn’s heart pounded, her stomach churned. Yet a little bit of joy surged through her at Brett’s protection.

  “You give your old man our message, Falcone.”

  “Fine. I’ll give it to him. But I swear to God you’ve got the wrong man.”

  “Give him this.” The thug to Brett’s right clocked him in the jaw. Not a pop, like she’d heard in movies. The punch hit Brett’s face with a dull thud.

  The thud rang in Kathryn’s head.

  “Next time, we hurt the girl,” he said.

  The two let Brett go and he fell into a heap. The other pressed the blade into Kathryn’s skin once more, then removed it and fled. Kathryn rushed to Brett and knelt beside him.

  “My God. Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live,” he said breathlessly.

  “Can you get up? Come on, I’ll help you.”

  “I’m fine. This isn’t the first time those bozos have mistaken me for the wrong Falcone.”

  “What can you expect from morons?” Kathryn helped him stand. “Come on. We’ll go to my house and get you cleaned up. My parents are o
ut for the day and won’t be home until after ten.”

  “You don’t have to, Kath.” Then he turned, his eyes wide. “Are you okay?” He reached toward her, trailed one finger along the burning flesh of her neck. “If they hurt you, so help me, I’ll—”

  “Do what? Take down three giants yourself? I don’t think so. I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me. You’re hurt. And I’m going to take care of you. Come on.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Did you ever regret not having a son?” Kathryn asked Brett as she tore another piece of Italian bread from the loaf.

  “Only a little,” he said. “I mean, sure, part of me always wanted a chip off the old block.” He smiled. “But I love my girls. They’re everything to me.”

  Yet his voice held a whisper of regret.

  “But still…” she urged.

  “Yeah, I would have liked to have a son.”

  You have a son. His name is Michael and he wants to meet us. Her heart thumped. How could she tell him without him hating her for keeping it from him?

  “How about you? Did you want a boy?”

  “No, no. I was thirty-four when I had Maya. I was pretty sure she’d be my one and only. I didn’t care whether she was male or female, as long as she was healthy.”

  “She’s a beautiful little girl, Kath. She looks just like you.”

  “Thank you.” The warmth of a blush raged up her neck. “She does favor me, though she has Danny’s eyes. He has those gorgeous icy blue eyes. I’m glad Maya got them. They’re so noticeable.”

  “I like your warm brown ones, Kath,” Brett said, smiling. “Though Maya is beautiful. I don’t mean to say she’s not.”

  “I know.” Kathryn smiled. “Tell me, do your other girls look like Zoe? In other words, like mini Bretts?”

  He laughed. “Candy does. Evie favors Michelle more. Still dark hair and eyes, like me, but her facial features are softer, a little curvier, like Michelle.”

  “I’d love to meet them.”

  “Okay. We’ll plan on it sometime. Does that mean…” His words trailed off.

  “Mean what?”

  “That you want to…be with me? I mean, I hope you do. It’s what I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be honest.”

  Her insides melted and she nodded. “But we don’t know each other very well, Brett. We never did, really.”

  “We knew each other in the biblical sense.” He smirked.